


The Pole

by evak1isak



Series: SKAM Week [6]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Feminization, Implied/Referenced Sex, Lingerie, M/M, Pole Dancing, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evak1isak/pseuds/evak1isak
Summary: Isobel is a stripper (or a dancer, as she likes to call it) in a club, where she catches the attention of a handsome, mysterious client.*This work is for the fifth day of this month's SKAM Week, with the theme "lingerie".*
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Series: SKAM Week [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830028
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	The Pole

**Author's Note:**

> right so i quickly wrote this thing for SKAM Week! It's quite short but I had the idea and decided to write it down. I hope you like it!

The way she swayed her hips was enchanting every person in the room. Gripping the pole with her fingers, she knew the angle at which she should rotate her hips so that her ass was a bit visible under her mini skirt. The teasing always worked with the public.

Isobel then turned around, her naked back against the pole, cold, while her fingers played with the button of her mini skirt. If she let it fall, the only thing covering her legs would be the red fishnet stockings that she was wearing and the red thong that matched the stockings. Her dark high heels were so high that it was almost impossible to move while wearing them; although they looked great when she pole-danced for the crowd, she knew that.

Her eyes got lost in the crowd. Men kept screaming lousy words at her, and sometimes a bill would be thrown on the platform of her pole. She knew that the moment she took the mini skirt off a cascade of bills would flow.

She saw Jonas, standing by a corner while chatting to a girl who, God knows why, had ended up in a club of male strippers for a mostly gay crowd.

Isobel still remembered the first time she came in this club. Not as a stripper (or as a dancer, as she liked to say) but as a client. She had come with Jonas, since the entrance was free, and she was shocked when she saw the pole dancers.

She stood by the platform, mesmerized by a guy who kept moving sensually with the pole, opening his legs, posing like Jesus in the cross, the hem of the stripper’s jockstrap covered in bills.

The guy noticed that Isobel was not looking because she was attracted, but because she liked the pole dancing.

He knelt on the platform, close to her, and asked. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Isak,” he said, gulping.

“Wanna try?”

Without even thinking about it, Isak got on the platform and did some movements with the pole. He had never tried it before, but he felt like he should try to see if it’s something that he would like to do as sport.

People seemed to like his unskilled movements, although by the comments and the whistles, it was pretty clear that they liked something else about Isak.

“Isobel, I feel like you would be fantastic while dancing with a pole,” the other guy said.

“Isak. My name is Isak.”

The stripper got in position, stretching his arms and holding the pole. “We all use a pseudonym here,” he said with a wink, elevating his legs and then spreading them for the crowd.

It’s not like Jonas liked male stripper shows (even if the strippers went for a female name, or worse, were his best friend). But ever since Isobel began working here, she felt safer with Jonas near her. There was a rule: watch but don’t touch. Some men didn’t get it, and sometimes the bodyguards were too slow, having to make their way through the crowd to catch the idiot that dared to touch her. But Jonas was always there, he would get there to find the guy and drag him out.

Yeah, Isak had taken the job. And went for Isobel as his nickname. It helped him separate his life here from his life outside as a Physics students. He was broke and he had fun while pole-dancing, so he took the job.

Pole dancing had been a discovery for her. Isobel had discovered new muscles that she didn’t know even existed, each flexing with every move she made on the pole, when she was way up the pole, when she moved her legs to the music.

But the technique wasn’t everything; that’s why she always wore some lingerie, or a jockstrap, or a pretty thong, or a mini skirt. And, sometimes, she ended up naked on the platform, the men going crazy.

Makeup was also important. She only did her eyes and sometimes her lips, so that they would look thicker. A bit of glitter on her cheeks looked nice under the lights.

That night, she was dancing with her back against the pole, holding herself with her ankles and hands while the pole slowly turned in its axis. When she stopped, this time to take her mini skirt off, she noticed one of the men sitting by the tables at the end.

Nobody rarely ever sat there, mostly because the men wanted to be close to her. Yet there was a man in one of those big leather sofas, staring at her. He smiled when she noticed that she had seen him. With a raise of his finger, he ordered a drink, which the waitress brought a few minutes later.

His eyes were back on Isobel, who focused on him, just him, when she finally removed her mini skirt, earning her whistles from the crowd, as well as bills thrown at her.

He was handsome; defined jaw, lean but not too muscular, nice lips and blond hair. From the distance she couldn’t guess the colour of his eyes.

She gave them her back, slowly sinking down, showing her stocking-covered ass, perfectly round. She then looked over her shoulder, just to check: yes, the gorgeous man was still looking, and he _knew_ that she was putting on a show for him.

She danced with the music, her muscles a bit sore now. Only a few minutes to go and her shift would be over. The Isak that came in here one year ago wouldn’t dare, but Isobel would speak to that blond man afterwards.

Soon the club went dark, meaning that her shift was finally over, and someone else would pole dance in a few minutes. She got off the platform, and there was Jonas, already holding her fur jacket, which she put over her shoulders. It almost reached her knees, so it was perfect.

The men of the crowd certainly noticed that she was now among them, but Jonas’ presence was always enough to keep them from touching her.

“Wanna go home?” Jonas asked. He handed Isobel her long red cigarette holder, and Isobel took a drag. “I can call a taxi.”

“There’s someone I wanted to talk to,” Isobel said, and Jonas rose his eyebrows. “Don’t wait for me.”

She walked among the crowd, a few men cat-calling her. Finally, she reached the row of tables, which were private enough for people to feel comfortable in it.

There he was, smirking. As if he had been waiting for her.

“I should’ve ordered a second drink,” the man said when she walked closer. He signalled at the waitress for another drink, like his own.

He took her palm and kissed it, and Isobel almost swooned. He seemed tender, yet rough at the same time. The type of men Isobel liked. The type of men that always let her down.

“Sit, please,” he said.

She did, and then he brought her closer, his big and strong arm around her waist, keeping her to his side.

She giggled. She then smoked and exhaled the smoke against his face.

“Cheeky,” he said with a smug smile. “What’s your name, princess?”

“Isobel,” she said.

“I highly doubt that.” The drink arrived, and she took a sip while his thumb brushed her hip underneath the fur jacket. “I’m Even.”

“I’m Isak,” he said with a blush. Isak rarely told random men he met at the club his real name. Somehow, he felt like telling Even was the right thing to do.

“Nice to meet you. I feel like you were putting on a show for me.”

Isak hummed. “Yeah, I was. I try to focus on the sexiest man in the club when dancing.”

“So there are more like me?”

Isak smirked. “They’re infinite. Every night, they come. Sometimes they are businessmen, sometimes they do illegal shit, rarely are they good men.”

“I’m a good man.” Even leaned over, until his nose brushed his earlobe. Isak shivered. “While seeing you dance, I could only think about ripping those pretty fishnet stockings apart and fucking you into oblivion,” he whispered in his ear.

Isak looked at him, “And then?”

Even rose his eyebrows, confused. “I’ll take you on an expensive date, if you want to.”

“I don’t do dates. I just live on my own. I like it that way. But the sex… I never say no to sex,” he teased.

“My car is parked right outside. I can take you back to mine and you can spend the night there, babe.”

“Okay. Under one condition: you buy me new lingerie after you tear it apart.”

_My name Isobel_ _  
Married to myself  
My love Isobel  
Living by herself_


End file.
